


sky full of song

by sassywriterchick



Series: heaven help a fool who falls in love [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror AU, F/M, Slow Burn, goblet of fire - Freeform, there's some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 13:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16535306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassywriterchick/pseuds/sassywriterchick
Summary: “Dragons?” Jake exclaims a week later. “They’re literally, actually, bringing in dragons?”He’s got the kind of look on his face Amy imagines watching Die Hard for the first time had given him.“Quite,” Dumbledore says. “I thought I ought to inform you.”“That is awesome!” Jake exclaims, and Amy kicks him. “I mean, besides from the danger to Harry Potter’s safety. Of course. But dragons?”(jake and amy are aurors are tasked with the hardest mission in the world: protecting harry potter)part two in a five part series.





	sky full of song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Apples93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apples93/gifts).



> first I'd like to say that this follows a book version of events and the goblet of fire movie is more different, so I'm creating a handy little key if you haven't read the book. 
> 
> Bertha Jorkins: a woman who did go missing before the book begins, her disappearance ends up being because she saw Peter Pettigrew, recognized him, and then Voldemort killed her.  
> Ludo Bagman: he just announced stuff. (and did other nefarious things but that's not important here)  
> all of the tasks are less violent in the books, so there's no dragon's escaping lol.  
> ALSO, they don't find Barty crouch's body in the books, because he's been transfigured into a giant bone and buried in Hagrid's garden.  
> there's probably other little things but I think that's most of the big stuff. 
> 
> AND NEXT ORDER OF BUISNESS IS A HUGE THANK YOU TO THE ACTUAL HERO OF THIS FIC: Apples93 for being an utter champ and betaing this monstrosity. She had to deal with me and my weird italics obsession so honestly she deserves a round of applause.
> 
> also the title is from a Florence + the machine song of the same name, and the series name is from Ophelia by the Lumineers. Woo.

  
i.

 

       “You know,” Jake says (very knowingly), “the fact that Dumbledore trusts us so much is a very high honor.”

       “It’s Professor Dumbledore,” Amy corrects, “and you literally were just saying two days ago that you thought he was an old fraud who needed to get his head checked.”

       “Well, I stand corrected.”

       “You’re just happy he got us tickets to the World Cup,” Amy says.

       “I mean, _maybe_ ,” Jake says. “But look how high up we are!”

       They’re directly below the box Harry Potter is in, which is apparently the absolute _best_ box. Jake was delighted to see it when they arrived, despite the fact that they're meant to be making sure nothing happens to Harry Potter and not actually _enjoying_ the game.

       Still, Amy can’t help but be entranced by the look on Jake’s face, the flush in his cheeks and the way he’s proudly tied the Irish scarf around his neck.

       Harry Potter is directly above them, and she and Jake have a perfect view of whoever might go up into the Top Box with him. It was really quite generous of Professor Dumbledore to set up this entire thing for them, even giving them a small tent located outside of the stadium.

       “I can’t believe you’re supporting the Bulgarians,” Jake says, slightly disgusted. Amy really had just supported the Bulgarians because he had been so adamantly _for_ the Irish. It really was so easy to get under his skin.

       “ _Amy Santiago_?” a completely unexpected voice says.

       “Teddy?” She exclaims, “It’s been such a long time!”

       He’s an unexpected but welcome sight, squeezed into the seat behind them. Amy leans over the back of her seat to give him a hug.

       “You look great,” he says. “How’ve you been holding up? And who’s this?”

       “This is my colleague, Jake Peralta. Jake - this is Teddy. We went on a couple dates last year.”

       Jake is giving her a _look_ , which Amy doesn’t know how to decode.

       “Yeah, but we just lived too far apart for it to work,” Teddy explains. “But, I recently just took a job in Diagon Alley. I’m working for Gringotts now.”

       “No way!” Amy says. She looks over at Jake, who is now staring determinedly back at the field as if he’s trying to block out their conversation. “Well,” she finally says, “I’ll have to take you up on that drink you promised me a couple months ago.”

 

ii.

       “So,” Jake says later, once Harry Potter is safely in his tent with the rest of the Weasleys. Jake and Amy have retreated to their own tent, where Jake makes them both hot chocolate and they sit in the tent entrance, watching Harry Potter’s tent carefully.  “ _Teddy_.”

       “Why did you say it like that?” Amy asks suspiciously.

       “Like what?”

       “ _Teddy_ ,” she mimics, pitching her voice lower.

       “I don’t know, I was trying to be _involved_. You know, couple talk it up with you. It’s like how you say _Sophia._ ”

       “I do not say Sophia like that, and there’s no couple talk to be had,” Amy says, unwrapping her Bulgarian scarf from her throat and folding it behind her. She can still hear the Irish supporters outside chanting fervently, “besides, I would have thought you’d be too busy gloating about your team winning.”

       “I always knew we’d win,” Jake says dismissively. “Just… _Teddy_.”

       Amy isn’t sure whether he’s praising Teddy or insulting him, so she just settles for bringing her hot chocolate mug as close to her as physically possible. “What?” She says, when she finds Jake still looking at her. “We’re technically camping. It’s _cold.”_

       He looks away, and for whatever reason this disappoints Amy just a little bit. “Do you want to take the first shift, or should I?”

Back to the mission then. Making sure something dangerous didn’t happen to Harry Potter was harder than it seemed, because he was _Harry Potter_ and seemed to attract danger like a magnet.

       Jake liked to say that Dumbledore picked them because Jake and Amy were _total badasses_ but in reality, they just knew that they had to keep their eyes out for a suspicious rat as opposed to just an ordinary human assailant. It was a helpful advantage that nobody else had.

       ( _But Ames_ , Jake would say whenever Amy brought this point up, _the badassery_.)

       Their tent is (obviously) bigger on the inside, but it’s not fancy enough to warrant anything other than a single cramped room with a tiny bathroom adjoining it. Which means that she can hear every movement Jake makes as he leaves her alone at the entrance and prepares for bed. She hears him humming to himself as he pulls on a warmer sweatshirt, hears him groan when she reminds him to _brush his teeth_ , they’re _wizards not savages_. She hears the rustling sound he makes when he climbs into bed, and hears the moment his breathing gets soft and heavy and he falls asleep.

       It makes her feel incredibly alone, for whatever reason.

       _Teddy,_ she hears him say again in her head. _Sophia,_ she thinks back but doesn’t know why.

       Sure, she and Jake Peralta have been spending a lot more time together now that they are investigating Peter Pettigrew in secret, but that’s _natural._ After all, they’re the only ones who could be trusted with something like this.

       When Dumbledore had given them this mission, Amy had imagined a secret room (perhaps in Hogwarts) where she and Jake had clear points _A_ and points _B_. A kind of reality where they were the sort of badass Aurors Jake had imagined them to be.

       In reality, they don’t have a secret room but rather a wall in Jake’s living room that is covered with points _A_ to _Z_ , different theories and different ideas, different sightings and ideas. In reality, it’s about staking out a tent after the Quidditch World Cup in order to protect a boy from his parents fate.

       When it happens, she doesn’t notice at first: too preoccupied with her own thoughts. Besides, at first it could be easily mistaken as part of the festivities: someone getting a little wild.

       Then it comes again, a high drawn-out scream that could only come from pure _terror._

 _“_ Jake!” Amy shouts and he’s out of bed in a shot. She doesn’t wait for him but instead plunges outside. There’s movement inside of Harry Potter’s tent but that’s not where the commotion is coming from.

       “Death Eaters!” Someone is screaming, “Death Eaters in the camps!”

       Amy pauses briefly to grab her Auror badge before they’re both peeling out of the tent and into the chaos. People are running, tents left abandoned as _panic, panic, panic_ ensues.

       “Take my hand!” Amy says quickly, reaching for Jake’s. “So we don’t get separated.”

       They immediately go to the Weasley’s tent to find it empty.

       “Shit,” Jake says, “shit, shit shit.”

       “They probably ran,” Amy says. “We don’t - we need to figure out what’s going on.”

       She begins to pull him after her, in the general area of the commotion, but he’s stopped, looking up at the sky with no small amount of horror.

       “Amy, god, is that the _camp manager_?”

If she’s being completely honest, Amy had forgotten about the small Muggle man in whose camp they’re staying almost entirely. Now she’s watching him, his wife and two children being suspended in midair. They’re twisting in the light, their bodies making grotesque shapes. She’s sure it’s only something that could come from magic-

       “It’s them,” she says, pointing at the group of masked people slowly advancing through the masses of panicking wizards fleeing the scene. “They’re - they’re Death Eaters.”

It’s the only logical explanation, although she can’t see _who_ they are: they’re wearing hoods and masks.

       Other Ministry officials are swarming them, trying to get close enough to simultaneously stop the perpetrators and stop the Muggles from falling. Amy watches as they flip the Muggle woman upside down, causing her nightgown to slip and expose her underwear.

       “This is - we’ve got to _stop_ them,” Jake says, pointing his wand at the group of people. Amy grabs his arm and forces it down.

       “No, we _need_ to find Harry Potter,” she says. “Jake, you take down those Death Eaters and the Muggles fall too. There are other officials here - see Kingsley? We need to do the job only _we_ can do.”

       It’s killing him to agree with her, to follow her into the forest where everyone’s running.

       Amy keeps her wand aimed at the ground, looking for rats. She hasn’t let go of Jake’s hand yet, even though the deeper they delve into the trees the further the chance of them getting separated becomes. His hand is a tether almost, keeping her firmly rooted here, in this moment. Even if he keeps looking back at the campsite.

       “I’m sorry we couldn’t do more to help them,” Amy says finally. “I know that it’s - ”

       “You know I’m a Muggle born,” Jake says instead, cutting her off. “And that’s - _god_. That could be my mother, you know? And we did _nothing_.”

       “Death Eaters are You-Know-Who’s followers,” Amy says. “If there’s one person that they’d love to get _more_ than Muggles, it’s Harry Potter. We’re following orders.”

       “From a crazy old man,” Jake mutters, but he doesn’t let go of her hand.

       “He’s not as crazy as you think,” Amy says.

       “What makes you say that?”

       “He’s trusting _us_ to find Peter Pettigrew. He can see talent when he knows it.”

       “Oh _wow_ , does that mean you just said I was talented?”

       “I said I was talented - ”

       Whatever she’s about to say is cut off as peals of panicked screaming rise up throughout the forest and her own words are caught in her throat. Pure terror, as green light shines down through the trees.

       “The Dark Mark,” Amy says, “Oh god - ”

       She lets go of Jake’s hand then, to favor running. They’re both sprinting _toward_ the mark even though every instinct in Amy is saying _run away, run away, run away._ She’d Apparate but in the case of a dangerous individual she’d rather have the element of surprise on her side, and that worked best when they didn’t hear the loud _CRACK_ usually associated with Disapparating.

       There’s already a crowd of Ministry wizards on the scene.

       “Is anyone dead?” Amy pants, “Auror Santiago from the Ministry of Magic and this is Auror Peralta - ”

       “Harry Potter?” Jake asks instead, voice slightly wheezy. “Are you alright?”

       It’s the first time that they’ve been face to face with Harry Potter. He’s been so built up in Amy’s head that for whatever reason he looks quite small to her then, a fourteen-year-old boy sitting on the ground with his two friends on either side of him like protective walls.

       Something like recognition passes over the face of Hermione Granger, but Harry responds before she can voice it.

       “I’m fine,” he says sullenly. “And I didn’t conjure, _whatever_ that was!”

       “We aren’t seriously considering that Harry Potter conjured You-Know-Who’s mark, are we?” Jake asks. “Since this is obviously a crime scene, Santiago and I will take over the investigation.”

       “You’re not a real british Auror,” a wispy-looking witch says, “I thought you were just here to investigate Sirius Black’s escape.”

       Harry’s two friends immediately look sheepish at that, looking anywhere but at Amy and Jake. Harry however locks eyes with her, his chin tilting up slightly as if he’s challenging her. This was a kid who was used to fighting his own battles.

“That doesn’t make him any less of a qualified Auror,” Amy says, “and the fact remains that I _am_ a british Auror, and I’d thank you to stop questioning Mr. Potter and his friends, as there’s no evidence tying them to the scene of the crime - ”

       “We didn’t do anything,” Hermione Granger says quickly, “but we heard someone - over there - they said an incantation - ”

       A man Amy recognizes as Barty Crouch begins practically _frothing_ at the mouth at her words. “Oh, stood over there? You seem to know a lot about how the dark mark is conjured, _girl_ \- ”

       “Well,” Jake says, “considering we’re wizards, saying it was an incantation isn’t that much of a stretch.”

       “They’ll have Disapparated by now,” Amy says.

       “But they might have left clues!” Jake says cheerfully, crossing over to the bushes Hermione indicated. “Oh, wait, there’s definitely someone here... a house elf?”

       Fifteen minutes later and three headaches to go, there’s a sobbing house elf, a report to write, and several arguments between Jake and the wispy witch who insisted he had ‘no jurisdiction here’.

       Amy, however, can’t get Harry Potter’s face out of her mind, that quiet defiance that had filled him to the brim.

       She didn’t know how they would protect him, quite honestly.

 

  
iii.

 

       A week later, after the case of the Dark Mark has been passed off and filed away as an impromptu random act of violence, Amy shows up to work in a pair of blue dress robes with her hair neatly twisted behind her head.

       “ _Damn_ , Santiago,” Rosa says, which Amy takes as a compliment.

       “Why do you look so fancy?” Jake asks. He’s currently trying to balance a quill on his nose and the moment she appears in front of him it tips off and tumbles to the ground.

       “I have a date tonight,” she says, “and since there’s not enough time to change after work… I decided _bending_ the dress code wasn’t the worst thing in the world.”

       “A date?” Jake leans forward, “with _Teddy_?”

       “Yes, a date with Teddy.” Amy nervously tucks her hair behinds her ears, “Why?”

       “He just seems kind of boring to me,” Jake shrugs.

       “As opposed to who? Sophia?”

       She doesn’t know why she brings up Sophia, but it clears the look in Jake’s eyes and makes him shake his head a little bit.

       “Well duh,” he says, “Sophia’s the best.”

       Amy ends up having a _very_ nice time with Teddy, thank you very much. (She doesn’t think about Jake’s comment during the dinner, nope, not at all, why would she?)

 




  
  


       “I’m sorry we couldn’t do more at the Quidditch World Cup, sir,” Amy says.

       “Harry is quite alright,” Dumbledore says. “Sometimes I fear the boy goes looking for trouble. Asking you to look after him isn’t an easy task.”

       “Sometimes?” Jake asks, “I mean, isn’t this the kid that somehow faced off with You-Know-Who when he was like, _eleven_?”

       “Quite,” Dumbledore says. “I called you two here firstly to check in and see if you’ve made any progress with Peter Pettigrew, and secondly to inform you of some events that might endanger Harry Potter further.”

       “Further?” Jake demands. “Seriously. _Further_?”

       “We haven’t made a ton of progress with Peter Pettigrew,” Amy says. “When we asked his mother if she’d seen any rats lately, well she just showed us her excellent methods of dealing _with_ said rats - ”

       “Did you know there are rat guillotines?” Jake interrupts. “Like what kind of world do we _live_ in?”

       “ _But_ ,” Amy says, “she definitely didn’t suspect us of being Aurors. The problem is - ”

       “We’re looking for a needle in a haystack,” Jake says. “I think our best method is to watch the area _around_ Harry, if you’re certain he’d go back to You-Know-Who. Now what’s this about putting Harry in further danger?”

       “This year, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament. It will be bringing students from the Wizarding schools of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.”

       “I have _always_ wanted to see the Tournament,” Amy says excitedly. “Will you be allowing outsiders to view it?”

       “I was hoping that you and Auror Peralta would attend all the school events,” Dumbledore says, “to keep an eye on Harry. With all the faculty around it’s hard to imagine anything could happen, but it’s best to have as many eyes on the situation as possible.”

       “Besides,” Jake says, “you’re basically bringing a bunch of strangers into the castle. Literally _anyone_ could sneak in.”

       Dumbledore nods.

       “Of course we’ll help,” Amy says quickly. “Just let us know where to be and when.”

       “I appreciate your help.”

       “Is it just me,” Jake asks later, when they’re beginning to walk out of the castle, “or does he weirdly talk like Holt?”

       Amy looks sideways at him. “I think Holt would take offense to that, actually.”

       Jake snorts. “Dumbledore is a little too frivolous for that, I suppose,” he pitches his voice lower, “We are Aurors, not sparkly goldfish, Peralta.”

       Amy laughs, “Did he say that?”

       “It seems like something he’d say,” Jake says. “You know, seriousness and all that.”

       “I wish they had done this tournament when I was in school,” Amy says wistfully.

       “Are you kidding me?”

       “What? I thought you’d love this. It’s like the wizard equivalent of Die Hard.”

       “We need to rewatch that movie, because apparently you don’t know what it is - and are you forgetting how literally _last year_ there was an escaped convict trying to break into this school? And now they’re holding a dangerous tournament? Who comes up with this stuff?”

       “I’m sure that the Ministry is helping with the preparations and everything will be safe - ”

       “How do we know that?”

       “Well, you don’t have to help with this if you don’t want to,” Amy says, stopping. They’re in the middle of a corridor on the third floor, and she knows that any moment the classes could end and this conversation could be interrupted. “If you really think it’s so stupid.”

       “It’s not - ” Jake closes his eyes. When he opens them again there’s something different about his face, a slight bitterness curving his mouth. “They’re thinking about pulling me back to the States.”

       Her stomach drops to her toes. The world freezes for one brief moment, before her brain brings it screaming back into focus. _Why do you care?_ She demands, _he’s only been your partner for a year._

       “Why?” She asks. “I thought they wanted to keep you on the Sirius Black case.”

       “They don’t think it’s worth it anymore,” Jake says, “and - they’re continuing the investigation with Hawkins more in the open.”

       “Oh,” Amy says, then, “is this what you want? Do you want to go back to the States?”

       He’d told her not that long ago that he’d liked it _better_ here. Amy realizes that maybe she likes it better with him here too.

       “If you want to stay,” she continues, “I’ll vouch for you. We’ll get you transferred here permanently.”

       Jake swallows. She remembers Sophia suddenly, waiting in the States for him to come home. She remembers their argument and thinks for the first time: _what if he doesn’t want to stay?_

       He doesn’t answer that unvoiced question though, and instead says: “Thanks, Santiago.”

       They move on.

            (Or, Amy pretends to move on. Later that night it’s all she hears, ringing through her head again and again and again. _They’re thinking of pulling me back to the States._ )

 

v.

 

       “You look nice,” Teddy says when he picks up Amy from her apartment.

       “Thank you,” Amy says, “I think you look nice too.”

       He offers her his arm, and she takes it. They decide to go walking around in Muggle London. He points out all of the oddities and wonders aloud _what’s that?_ Amy is quite pleased to know that she knows the answers to most of those questions, partly because of Jake and partly because she had taken Muggle Studies all throughout her years at Hogwarts.

       _Wow,_ she thinks, _this is nice._

       Nice.

            (The next day, Jake asks her how it was and she says _great_ like it was a synonym for _nice_ and it’s not, is it? It tastes like a lie on her tongue.)

 

vi.

 

       A week later finds Amy in Jake’s apartment after work. It’s like they’re working two completely different jobs, she reflects wearily. It would be nice if Sirius Black was known to be innocent for a lot of reasons. It would be nice if they could use their work hours looking for Peter Pettigrew.

       She spends so much time at Jake’s apartment looking over the different files that at least he’s begun to stock his kitchen with stuff that’s actually edible, and has finally stopped leaving random pizza plates _everywhere._

       She’s sitting on his couch with her feet curled underneath under her, head aching as she stares at yet another picture of Peter Pettigrew.

       “The problem with this,” she finally says, “is after twelve years of being a rat - I doubt he looks like _this_ anymore.”

       Jake nods. He’s lying on his floor, with a case file held above his head and frowning.

       “I wonder if he looks ratlike now.”

       “Maybe Professor Dumbledore will let us ask Harry?” Amy hums. Dumbledore had been very strict about letting, well, _anyone_ talk to Harry. Amy isn’t even sure if he knows that she and Jake are looking out for him. Surely now that they are his designated protectors, Dumbledore would let them at least _talk_ to him.

       Jake flips over onto his stomach. “Or maybe we should try and get in touch with Remus Lupin again?”

       Their last few owls hadn’t found their destination. “I think he’s worried we’re still angry about him - ”

       “Stunning us? I don’t know about you Ames, but I still _am_ kind of peeved, actually.”

       Amy makes a face at him, ignoring the way her stomach flips when he says _Ames._

       A shrilling sound cuts through the apartment and startles Amy. She reaches immediately for her wand but Jakes waves her hand away.

       “It’s just the phone.”

       “Phone?” Amy asks, but he’s crossing the room and picking up a strange device and holding it to his ear.

       “Jake Peralta - oh _hey_ , Mom.”

       Amy deduces that he’s somehow talking to his mother all the way across the room and instantly busies herself with rustling the papers around her as loudly as she possibly can.

       “Yeah, I’m doing okay here… no, I haven’t talked to her…yeah, Amy and I are still working on it… Amy’s doing good, she’s actually here right now… I’d have to teach her how to use a phone first and we don’t have time for that… I’ve been writing Sophia… Love you too, Mom.”

       There’s something complicated happening to Amy’s heart right now. It’s something about the tenderness in Jake’s voice as he talks to his mom, it’s something about the way he says _Amy_ , something about how he talks to his mom about _her_ , about the way he smiles slightly when he hangs up the phone.

She really, really doesn’t want him to leave for the States. She wants him to stay here, and keep being her partner maybe forever.

       “Do I have something on my face?” Jake asks, when he catches her staring at him.

       “No,” Amy looks down at the picture of Peter Pettigrew again as he blinks up at her.

       In her head she’s already compiling the list: _How to Get Jake Peralta to stay in Britain._

 

vii.

 

       “The best part about this?” Amy asks, “since we’re here to investigate any suspicious Sirius Black activity, the Auror office is paying for the whole thing!”

       “You’re not seriously wearing - here,” Jake grabs her by the arm and refastens her coat. “Muggles don’t button their coats like that. And also,” he bends down and adjusts the bottom of her pants, “they don’t roll their pants up quite _that_ high.”

       “I wore this when I went out with Teddy,” Amy says, frowning.

       “And did you get some odd looks?”

       “… Maybe? But I thought it was because Teddy was wearing this awful yellow bowler hat - ”

       Jake snorts a little bit, “Of _course_ he was.”

       “What’s that supposed to mean?”

       “Oh, nothing,” Jake says, lifting his eyebrows. “Just - he seems like a bowler hat sort of dude. Just, if anyone starts to talk to us - let me lead the conversation? I speak their language.”

       “They speak Albanian here.”

       “Yeah well, I speak _Muggle_ ,” he says. “And there’s got to be someone here that speaks English.”

       There had been rumors about You-Know-Who being in this particular Albanian forest ever since his disappearance, but it couldn’t hurt to check for rats. Of course, Holt was under the impression they were looking for a black dog (a.k.a. Sirius Black). Amy found that she was surprisingly more comfortable with breaking the rules when it came to actual stakes.

       That, and Jake had challenged her nearly the moment after Dumbledore had asked them to keep a secret. _First person who spills the secret has to buy the other drinks for a year._

       She couldn’t be the one to do it.

       Amy decides that they should stay overnight, half because the department’s paying for it and half because it gives her more of an opportunity to show Jake that the British Auror office is the _best_ place imaginable and he should definitely consider asking Holt to hire him there full time.

       She’s got the speech completely planned in her head: maybe over Peter Pettigrew’s prone form as they triumphantly deliver him to the Dementors of Azkaban. _You work really well here, with me._

       The hotel room proves to throw a bit of a wrench into things. One, it turns out that the receptionist speaks a little bit of English, but not enough that Jake can communicate properly with her in true ‘Muggle fashion’. Two, she gives them a room with _one_ bed.

       They stand in the doorway for a moment, staring at the solitary bed with its quilted blanket and plush pillows.

       “I was holding up _two_ fingers!” Jake says, “Two!”

       “Well, there’s also two of us,” Amy says. “Should we go and try to get a different room?”

       “I’ll just sleep on the floor,” Jake says, throwing his bag down to the floor. “I’d rather be sore as hell than try and mime the word _bed._ How would I even go about doing that?”

      

viii.

 

       Forests are creepily quiet places, Amy thinks, as her boots crunch over the twigs and leaves. Despite being so full to the brim with life and trees, a hush has fallen over the entire place.

       “I wonder why he’d ever choose this forest,” Jake says. “I mean, it’s not exactly a five star hotel.”

       “Operating on the assumption that You-Know-Who is still alive,” Amy says, “I mean, it’s not like he could go somewhere without someone noticing his face.”

       “True,” Jake says.

       It’s just now turning into fall, and only some of the leaves have begun to change, their color distinct amongst the general green of the forest.

       “Do you think, if You-Know-Who was truly here, Pettigrew would have come back to join him? I mean, you knew him from school, didn’t you?”

       “Know is a strong word,” Amy responds. “I mean, I was several years younger and in a completely different House.”

       “Isn’t the fact that he’s in Gryffindor kind of weird?” Jake asks. “It’s like… I don’t know. Aren’t all the bad wizards in Slytherin, typically?”

       “I mean, if you want to talk about _stereotypes_ \- ” Amy begins, but at a look from Jake stops. “Yeah. It’s kind of weird that someone was in a House valued for bravery and then betrays his best friend to You-Know-Who the moment things get rough.”

       “What do you remember about him?”

       “I remember someone that just followed around James and Sirius,” Amy says. “I didn’t think much of him, why would I? How would I know I’d be hunting him down all these years later?”

       “He’s our arch nemesis,” Jake says. “Like Eddie Fung.”

       “Who is _Eddie Fung_?”

       “He stole my girlfriend at the school dance when I was fifteen,” Jake says. “It also, coincidentally, fell on _my birthday_.”

       “Well, yes. Then Peter Pettigrew is our Eddie Fung.”

       “No, you have to hate Eddie Fung too.”

       “Why?”

       “You’re my _partner_. You are obliged to hate every person that I hate. It simplifies things. Here, let me tell you why you should - “

       “Jake - ”

       “He’s got great hair but - ”

       “Jake - ”

       “And that stupid smile - ”

       “Jake!”

       He stops.

       Through the trees Amy catches a flicker of movement. Slowly, she withdraws her wand and keeps it held at the ready as they slowly creep through the trees.

       This area of the forest had been alive once, that was plain to see. It was hard to imagine _when_ it had been alive, though. The trees were completely devoid of leaves, transporting them back into winter. The bark was blackened, and - Amy reaches back and blindly grabs at Jake’s arm as she steps on something that makes a terrible cracking sound and she looks down -

       She’s standing on a bone. An animal bone, but a bone nonetheless. The more she looks at the clearing the more she can see the little pieces of white shining through the soil and the rotting leaves.

       Jake slowly approaches the largest tree in the small, dead grove, his boots making a horrifying crunching sound as he walks.

       “The tree is hollow,” he finally says. “But empty. If this was where… where _he_ was, he’s gone now.”

       The very thought terrifies Amy down to her very core.

 

ix.

 

       Locking the hotel room door doesn’t feel safe enough, so Amy adds several enchantments on the door to be safe.

       “Why has no one found that yet?”

       “Because nobody wants to look that hard,” Jake says, “It’s easier if he died in Godric’s Hollow fourteen years ago.”

       “But that means - ” Amy’s definitely going to have a panic attack, her breath is coming in heaving gasps, sweat is pooling under her clothes and she’s going to explode _oh god, oh god, oh god._ She reaches up her hands and tugs at her hair in order to feel some semblance of reality.

       Jake crosses the room to her and grabs her hands, clasping them between his own.

       “Ames,” he says. “ _Ames_. It’s going to be okay. Breathe with me, okay? He’s not _here_. We need to view this analytically, okay? What are the facts?”

       “Peter Pettigrew most likely found You-Know-Who here,” Amy says, her breath still tearing frantically out of her chest. She’s pretty sure she’s crying now too, little panicked tears that drip off her chin and into her shirt. “Probably the night he escaped Harry and his friends. It means he’s definitely helping You-Know-Who with whatever he’s planning and it means - it means Harry is more in danger than we could have anticipated.”

       “Then it’s a good thing we’re assigned to his case,” Jake says, shaking her hands a little bit. “ _Right_? We’re the best damn Aurors in the world. Right?”

       Amy lets out a weak laugh, her panic slowly starting to fade out of her. She’s somehow sitting on the floor and Jake is kneeling in front of her.

       “Sorry,” she says, “It’s just - I mean it was a miracle that with seven brothers we all got out of the last war. If something happens again, if we get into another war - I just don’t want anyone else to die like that.”

       “Anyone else?”

       “Half of the kids I graduated Hogwarts with, or just kids that I went to _school_ with - died. Marlene McKinnon, Harry’s parents, you name it. It’s a miracle that there are kids going to Hogwarts today.”

       “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Jake says. “I don’t know if there’s going to be another war. But the best thing we can do right now is tell Dumbledore what we found and keep an eye out for Harry.”

       “Right,” Amy says, wiping her face off. “Right.”

       “Now let’s get some sleep and then get out of this creepy place,” Jake says. “Seriously. I found a weird doll in the closet.”

       Amy laughs, then - “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

       “Don’t be ridiculous - ”

       “You just had to deal with me literally losing my mind over a dead tree - ”

       “There were also dead animals - ”

       “You need sleep - ”

       “We’re adults, right?”

       “What?”

       “We’re both adults,” Jake says. “Let’s just share the bed. It’s big enough for the two of us.”

       “Right,” Amy says. “It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong.”

       (Why does this feel like such a bad idea then?)

       She uses the tiny shower and changes into her warmest pair of pajamas before crawling into the bed. The bed feels a lot smaller now that they’re both in it. Jake feels as if he’s only a breath away.

       She turns away from him, her head firmly on the pillow. She can feel the blanket stretched over the two of them as if it’s a rope binding them together.

       “Do you think Peter Pettigrew ever misses them?” Jake’s voice is too close and too far away. Amy flips over to find that he’s already watching her.

       “Misses who?”

       “His friends.”

       “I hope so,” Amy says softly. “I hope a part of him regrets what he did, even if it’s not enough.”

       Jake rolls back onto his back, and Amy watches the movement of his throat as he swallows.

       “Fuck,” he finally says after a pause, “you people are _messed up_ in Europe.”

       Amy whacks him on the arm, “Hey, some of us are normal!”

       “Are you, though?” He asks, a playful smile on his face, “I’m not sure you are.”

       “Ha, ha,” Amy turns back over so he can’t see that she’s smiling. “Goodnight Jake.”

       “Goodnight Amy.”

 

x.

 

       The next morning she and Jake are curled together like flower petals. Her nose is pressed into his shirt and his arm is loosely thrown over her waist. Even their legs are threaded together.

       He smells nice, Amy thinks lazily. Then: _what would it be like to wake up every morning like this?_

       She slips away before she can even let herself answer the question.

 

xi.

 

       “Albania was _interesting_ ,” Amy tells Teddy over pasta two nights later. “We didn’t really find what we were looking for, though.”

       (Later, he kisses her in her apartment doorway and Amy thinks: _maybe I’m not finding what I’m looking for now either._ )

 

xii.

 

       “I thought Auror Peralta would have an interesting viewpoint on the security,” Dumbledore says to Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch the night the names are meant to be pulled out from the Triwizard cup. “He and Auror Santiago helped me with some personal matters last spring and they’re here on my instance.”

       Jake and Amy’s official titles are ‘Security Specialists’, which is a fancy word for _guard_ , but it means that Amy gets to sit at the Head Table with all the professors and it’s like a dream come true.

       “You are such a nerd,” Jake is laughing. “You’re just thinking about how this is what it would like be a teacher, aren’t you?”

       If they weren’t in front of so many people, Amy would definitely hit him.

       “Also,” Jake whispers, “I’ve totally awkwardly locked eyes with Harry Potter more than once. If he remembers us, he may be on to us.”

       “That, or he thinks we’re just trying to hunt down his godfather.”

       “Which one do you think he’d be more impressed by?”

       “We’re not here to impress the kid, we’re here to - ” but Amy doesn’t get to finish what she’s saying as Dumbledore stands and addresses the hall.

       “Well, the Goblet is ready to make its decision,” Dumbledore says. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions names are called, I would ask…”

       “Do you want to make things a little more interesting?” Jake asks her under his breath.

       Amy looks up. “More interesting?”

       “I bet that Viktor Krum will get picked to be in the tournament,” Jake says softly.

       “You’ve got to be kidding me, the Goblet of Fire is not something that can just be Confounded - ”

       “Do you take the bet or not? Ten Galleons.”

       “Of course I’ll take that. And I’ll be buying myself a nice new quill wi - ”

       “The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!”

       “Are you serious?” Amy’s mouth is hanging open. “What the hell?”

       “What, I thought you liked the Bulgarian Quidditch team.”

       “That’s - ” Amy’s frowning now, “What are the odds of that?”

       The Goblet turns red and spits out another piece of paper. “I bet it’s that brunette girl,” she says. “Ten Galleons.”

       “The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!”

       The girl standing up has shimmery white-blonde hair and moves like a ballet dancer.

       “Twenty galleons!” Jake whoops. “Do you want to go again, Santiago? Or are you too _chicken_?”

       “Are you both _children_?” A different voice hisses, and Amy shrinks slightly under Professor Sinistra’s gaze.

       “Sorry, professor,” she mumbles.

       “The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!”

       “Oh, his father works for the Ministry,” Amy observes as Cedric stands up amongst frantic cheers. It’s not as good as someone from Ravenclaw.

       “Well at least Harry’s name didn’t get picked,” Jake says as Dumbledore continues with the announcements, “I mean I know there was an age restriction or whatever but are we ever really - ”

       The goblet turns red once again.

       “Oh no,” Amy whispers. “Oh no, that’s not good. That’s not supposed to happen, is it?”

       The Goblet spits out another piece of paper, and Dumbledore catches it. Amy remembers the dead forest, the countless pictures of rats and Peter Pettigrew on Jake’s wall, and _knows_ what that paper says even before Dumbledore has the chance to speak it aloud.

       “Harry Potter.”

 

xiii.

 

       “The question of the day is: how offended are we on a scale from one to ten?”

       Amy makes a face. “Zero.”

       “That wasn’t one of the options Santiago, keep up.”

       “We’re not offended, because Professor Moody will likely have a lot of helpful insights into the entire situation.”

       “Yeah, but it’s not like you or I got offered this teaching job.”

       “We’re not nearly as qualified as Moody. Haven’t you heard of Alastor Moody, one of the most notable Aurors in the modern era?”

       They’re on their way to Moody’s office and Jake stops abruptly in the middle of the hallway.

       “Wait - Moody. Are you talking about _Mad-Eye Moody_?”

       Amy stops too. “If you call him that during our meeting with him, I am _officially_ going to ask to be given a new partner.”

       “I thought that’s what he was known as.”

       “That’s what other people call him. Would you really want someone to call you Mad-Eye Moody to your face?”

       “Actually, yes. That’s like the best name ever Santiago - “

       She rolls her eyes and continues down the hallway, waving him off. “Don’t call him that.”

       “I won’t call him that if you let me call him that in private.”

       Amy doesn’t like how the word _private_ makes her stomach flip. “Be polite,” she hisses to Jake once they reach Moody’s door, reaching up her hand to knock.

       “I’m always polite. Old people love me.”

       Amy has a list of reasons why this is _not_ true, top of which is that old people love _her_ the best and last of which Mad-Eye Moody can’t be considered old - when the door flies open so suddenly that Amy barely has enough time to lunge out of the way before it nearly smashes into her face.

       “WHO’S KNOCKING ON MY DOOR?”

       Mad-Eye Moody is out in the hallway, waving his wand in their faces and looking about as terrifying as that forest in Albania. Before she realizes what she’s doing, Amy grabs Jake by the arm and puts herself in front of him.

       “It’s Auror Peralta and Auror Santiago here to speak with you about the Goblet of Fire!” Jake says quickly, and Amy lets go of him.

       “Yes,” she says quickly, her face burning for whatever reason. “That’s exactly it.”

       “You’re three minutes late,” Moody says and stumps back into his office, leaving the door open behind him.

       “We are not,” Amy breathes, “three minutes late. We are three minutes _early_.”

       Jake, for whatever ungodly reason, is looking undeniably cheerful as he follows Moody into the classroom. _Three minutes late_ he mouths at her over his shoulder.

       “You’re the two guppies the Ministry sent over to look over the security?”

       “Actually,” Jake says, “Dumbledore requested us. He thinks we have a good outlook on the Sirius Black situation.”

       ( _Or,_ Amy thinks, _the Peter Pettigrew situation._ )

       Moody _hrumphs._ “And you think Black had something to do with Potter’s name coming out of the Goblet, did you?”

       “Maybe,” Jake says. “I mean, he’s a loose convict who’s known to have been targeting Harry in the past. Who else?”

       Moody just _hrumphs_ again. “Well, the only person who could have Confounded the Goblet into accepting Potter as a candidate is a powerful wizard. No young wizard could have done it.”

       “And it has to be someone who’s had access to the castle,” Amy says. “Do you have a list?”

       Moody opens a drawer in his desk and stoops over, rifling through the contents. Jake attempts to give Amy a _look_ over Mad-Eye’s shoulder. Amy refuses to look back. Jake nudges her, clearly wanting to mouth something completely inappropriate at her.

       “Ames,” he finally whispers.

       “Peralta, can you keep it in your pants or are we going to have a problem?” Mad-Eye Moody barks as he straightens, his eye whizzing in its socket.

       Twenty minutes later and Jake is still fixated. “Why didn’t you tell me he had an _eye that can see through the back of his head_?”

“Why were you so insistent on catching my attention?” Amy fires back.

       “I had a social commentary point to make. A _point_ , Ames, and it was going to be hilarious.”

       “A silent point?”

       “I’m pretty sure you can read my gestures by now Ames, we’re _connected._ ”

       Amy hasn’t realized how loud they’re being, strolling back through the castle. She’s been too busy thinking about how tonight they’d go back to Jake’s apartment and add all the names to their new list: How did Harry Potter’s name get in the Goblet of Fire? She’s planning on convincing Jake to order from that nice Muggle place again, the one that gives you a free cup of hot chocolate and -

       “Are you two following me?” Harry Potter asks. He looks vastly different than he did the last time Amy saw him, sitting between his two best friends in the Great Hall as his name was called. He’s paler, somehow thinner, and the shadows under his eyes look as if they could swallow him whole. “You’re _everywhere.”_

Amy doesn’t have an excuse for this, so she opts for the truth. “Dumbledore has asked us to keep an eye on you.”

       “But you two are looking for Sirius,” Harry says, voice biting. “And weren’t you there, that night last year?”

       Jake looks around to make sure that the hallway is empty before speaking. “You mean, the night when Sirius Black escaped?”

       Harry’s eyebrows lift, but Amy thinks that it probably takes a lot more to surprise this kid.

       “We’re here to help you,” she says, taking a step forward.

       “Well, it seems like you’re doing a pretty awful job at that,” Harry says, taking a step backward. “If you really want to protect me, why don’t you tell me what’s coming up in these tasks?”

       “They haven’t told us that,” Jake says, “but if we _could_ \- ”

       “Forget it,” Harry says, eyes flashing. “You probably think this is my fault, don’t you?”

       He turns and disappears before they can catch up to him. He’s probably taken some sort of passage, Amy thinks in frustration. She hadn’t been too focused on the short cuts through the castle, instead sticking to her own carefully planned routes during her time here.

       “Well,” Jake says cheerfully when they give up on helping him and are heading out of the castle again, “I like him.”

 

xiv.

 

       Amy leaves early that night when she gets an owl from Teddy, asking her if she wants to go out to dinner tonight.

       “Go,” Jake says, not looking up from his notes on the Goblet’s magical properties. They’d been sprawled out on his couch before Amy got Teddy’s message. Now she’s standing over by the window, and the peace that came from working in compatible silence is slowly draining away. “I’ll be fine here. I’m expecting a letter from Sophia anyways.”

       Teddy takes her to a nice wizard restaurant known for serving authentic dragon meat (Amy stays clear of that, thank you very much) and looks at her as if she’s some famous magical star.

       (Jake sometimes looks at her as if she’s got stars caught in her hair, but she has to remind herself that that’s her _inventing_ things, besides, Teddy is very, very _nice._ )

       “Amy Santiago,” Teddy finally asks her at the end of the meal. “Will you officially become my girlfriend?”

       Amy didn’t think that was something people their age still asked one another. Certainly they didn’t propose it? Weren’t you supposed to just tumble into a relationship without quite realizing what happened?

       “Yes,” she says, “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

 

xv.

 

       _“Dragons_ ? _”_ Jake exclaims a week later. “They’re literally, actually, bringing in _dragons_? _”_

He’s got the kind of look on his face Amy imagines watching Die Hard for the first time had given him.

       “Quite,” Dumbledore says. “I thought I ought to inform you.”

       “That is _awesome_!” Jake exclaims, and Amy kicks him. “I mean, besides from the danger to Harry Potter’s safety. Of course. But _dragons_?”

      

       xvi.

 

                   Sophia must have a thing for dragons as well, because she turns up in the Auror office the morning of the first task dressed in a darling blue coat and high-heeled boots that _clack_ against the floors. Amy hadn’t even considered bringing Teddy.

       Jake meets her with a kiss. “Of course,” he says, when Holt looks disapprovingly over at them, “the job comes first.”

       “I’ll be there as well, sir,” Amy says, trying not to feel bitter about it. “We won’t let you down.”

       “Why Dumbledore picked the two of you for this is _beyond_ me,” Rosa says.

       “We have hidden talents,” Jake says cheerfully.

 

xvii.

      

       It takes about five minutes of small talk with Sophia in the stands to drive Amy insane. They’ve got a good vantage point, very close to the action, but it’s not enough to draw Amy’s attention away from little details like the way Sophia’s hand curls around Jake’s elbow or the way she talks endlessly about Jake’s friend Gina back in the States and how they all _miss him so much._

       Her only respite is when Jake snorts and says, “Gina actually admitted she missed me?”

“Well,” Sophia says, “that may have been a stretch.”

       “I’m going to go around the perimeter,” Amy tells Jake, once the task begins and it’s clear that Harry’s going last. One, she isn’t concerned about the other champions, and two, _Sophia_. Not that it’s any of Amy’s business, really, but she really doesn’t see what Jake sees in Sophia.

       Then again, he often remarked how he didn’t understand Teddy, so perhaps it was the same thing.

       Amy picks her way around the stadium, dodging various students and professors as she does so. She’s not in the mood for chatting with someone right now, actually.

       She can hear the frantic screams and cheers as Cedric goes first, then Fleur, and Krum. She’s wondering if Teddy would have enjoyed this, seeing a bunch of kids getting attacked by dragons.

       Somehow, as Krum’s still battling his dragon, Amy finds the Champions’ tent.

       “Harry?” She asks, stepping inside. He’s sitting on a cot at the far side of the tent, looking at his hands. He looks overwhelmingly _young_ , all of the sudden. When Amy was fourteen, her biggest concern had been figuring out how to perfect her note-taking system. There hadn’t been any _dragons_ involved.

       Harry looks up, and scowls when he sees it’s her. “I told you, I don’t need your protection from Sirius.”

       “No,” Amy says. “You don’t. You need our protection from Peter Pettigrew.”

       It must take a lot to surprise Harry Potter, Amy thinks, but she’s somehow managed it. It was something she’d thought about a lot, actually, telling Harry that they’re in his corner. Dumbledore hadn’t told them _not_ to do it after all, they had just assumed he hadn’t wanted them to. Sometimes, the world couldn’t wait for Dumbledore’s approval, however.

       “You know…?”

       “Jake and I figured out that Sirius was an Animagus,” Amy says, “and Dumbledore told us the rest.”

       “And you believe it?” Harry’s anxiety suddenly melts away, brought to attention with an obviously more pressing matter, “that he’s innocent?”

       “Yes,” Amy says. “We believe he’s innocent.”

       “Where is your partner anyways?”

       Amy thinks of the way Sophia’s head had fit perfectly against Jake’s shoulder and their laughter on the air. She squares her shoulders. “He’s watching the Tournament.”

       Harry raises his eyebrows, “Is that so?”

       “It is so,” Amy says. “Don’t look at me like that. Have you figured out what you’re going to do about the dragon?”

       Harry goes paler at her words, “I think so,” he says carefully. Amy’s about to ask him _how_ (in order to maybe fine-tune his spellwork) but Ludo Bagman’s already announcing him.

       “Good luck,” Amy says quickly.

       “If,” Harry stops at the mouth of the tent, “say I had a way to talk to Sirius. Would that help you with your investigation?”

       “Yes,” Amy says instantly. “He knows the most about Peter Pettigrew, after all.”

       Harry nods, then squares his shoulders.

       Amy doesn’t want to watch him battle a dragon, so she just sits in the Champions’ tent for a moment, staring down at her hands.

       (Later, she hears all about it from Jake and Sophia. _I couldn’t believe it,_ Sophia is saying, and Jake is saying _Where were you, Ames?_ And Amy is saying _doing my job_ and everything feels like a mess.)

 

xviii.

 

       Amy hadn’t thought about how having Sophia in town would mean that the double date scenario was… well, a _thing._

       The fact that Teddy and Sophia decided to orchestrate it _themselves_ is even more baffling.

       “How did they communicate with each other?” Amy asks while they’re at work before the event, when Jake is sitting across from her alone _._

       “Sophia asked what his name was,” Jake says. He’s leaning back in his chair, looking at a picture of a known Death Eater upside down for whatever reason.

       “Why?”

       “She was asking about you. Since we’re partners and stuff.”

       He’s lying. Amy isn’t sure why she’s certain of this, although maybe it’s the way he ducks his head and the way his cheeks flush suddenly. For whatever reason, Sophia had wanted to know about Teddy, and it _wasn’t_ out of pure curiosity.

       Amy’s happy about this until the actual double date itself. Since they’re going to a Muggle restaurant, she’s picked out a nice dress to wear. It’s a Muggle outfit that she’d used a few months ago on a stake out and Jake had approved it, which meant that it was something an actual Muggle woman would wear.

       She probably should have asked Jake to approve Teddy’s outfit as well.

       He’s wearing what she’s pretty sure are called _shorts_ , paired with a suit jacket and knee-high socks.

       “I thought I told you to just wear what you’d normally wear under your robes,” Amy hisses to him.

       “It’s a fancy occasion,” Teddy says in surprise. “Am I not dressed fancy enough?”

       When they arrive at the restaurant, Amy can see Jake visibly holding back a laugh when he looks at Teddy. Amy tries to communicate with her eyes that _this was not her idea_ but she thinks he misses it.

       “Shall we go in?” Sophia asks, eying Teddy’s outfit with obvious interest.

       Amy is quite used to sitting across from Jake at this point, considering they share a desk clump. He has a bad habit of stretching out so his feet brush hers, and she has an equally bad habit of kicking him when she figures out something new on a case, or just the daily crossword puzzle in the Daily Prophet.

       It’s why she isn’t alarmed when his shoe bumps against hers, and why it brings her a weird comfort she doesn’t quite want to name.

       “So, Amy,” Sophia says, “how did you and Teddy meet?”

       “We took a defensive spell class together,” Amy says. “Teddy’s a guard at Gringotts.”

       “I was the top of that class,” Teddy brags. “And Amy was number two.”

       Amy can feel herself stiffen at his words. He had only been number one because the instructor had been a misogynistic jerk who didn’t think women were capable of using defensive spells to their ‘true advantage’. Teddy knew this -

       “Wasn’t that the class where the instructor was a total dick?” Jake asks, and Amy remembers that Jake knows that too. She’d told him over pizza in his apartment, when Peter Pettigrew’s face had begun to swim before her eyes and exhaustion had weighed at her limbs.

       “He was alright,” Teddy says, and Amy really wishes she could be anywhere else. Jake’s smile becomes rather fixed, and Sophia swoops in to try and save the conversation.

       “I’m surprised you and Jake haven’t found Sirius Black yet,” she says quickly. “You seem like the people who are best equipped to handle the job.”

       “If we had unlimited resources, we’d find him,” Amy says. “However, Jake and I have only been assigned a small portion of the case. The rest goes to Kingsley’s squad.”

       “Is that so?” Sophia asks, raising an eyebrow. “One wonders why you’re even still here after all, if they’re not using your talents to their full advantage.”

       Amy has somehow messed up and she doesn’t quite know how, but Teddy is somehow looking triumphant and Jake is spluttering and Sophia’s eyes have actual _daggers_ in them -

       “The States don’t want me back just - “

       “I heard from Lindsey in Records that’s not true, actually,” Sophia says. “They’re continuing the investigation on Hawkins in the open and apparently they want you on the case.”

       Amy wants to sink down in the floorboards. Luckily, Teddy interrupts with a story about _pilsners_ of all things, and they all latch onto the conversation change as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

 

xix.

 

       Amy receives a letter from Harry the next morning. It tells her a rather interesting story about his pet dog that lingers around Hogsmeade and likes to frequent a certain cave. It asks her if the dog (named Padfoot) is under any legal restrictions there.

       It’s their off day, but Jake and Amy head up to Hogsmeade anyways.

       Amy’s careful not to mention anything about last night to Jake, half for her own sanity and half because the shadows under his eyes don’t look open for conversation.

       A dog is waiting for them at the base of the mountain, a scraggly black thing that is still somehow massive.

       “Padfoot,” Jake guesses. “It seems we have a mutual friend.”

       It’s funny, Amy thinks, how a year ago she and Jake were following the same dog. This time though, the dog _is_ what Amy’s been looking for, and he’s not a murderer. They climb through a narrow cave opening into what Amy assumes is Sirius’ current living situation.

       She misses the actual transformation, one moment he’s a dog and the next he’s Sirius Black. He looks like a mad, starving, man, but there’s a sort of playful focus to his eyes that relaxes Amy.

       “So,” Sirius says, “apparently you two found out my hairy little secret.”

       “Is that a _hippogriff_?” Jake interrupts, pointing to the back of the cave. Amy had been too distracted by the escaped convict in front of them to notice the giant, half bird, half horse lingering at the back of the cave and eying them suspiciously.

       “That’s how you escaped last summer,” Amy says in wonderment.

       “ _Damn_ ,” Jake says, “Harry really isn’t someone to be messed with.”

       “Harry tells me you two are convinced of my innocence,” Sirius says.

       “For the most part,” Amy says cautiously. “Really, we want to ask you about Peter Pettigrew.”

       “Slippery bastard,” Sirius swears. “I don’t know much about him now, but I can tell you about the person he used to be. A little cowardly, but what else can you expect from a rat? He used to follow James and I around like a lost puppy. Too scared to do things on his own. James liked him though, for whatever reason.”

       “Do you think he would have gone back to You-Know-Who?”

       “Yes,” Sirius says, “without a doubt. That would be his best shot at staying out of Azkaban, right? He has no sense of true loyalty.”

       “Do you think he’d try to kill Harry, given the chance?” Jake asks.

       Sirius contemplates it for a moment. Amy reflects on how hilarious this is, all of the sudden. She’s in a cave alone with a convicted murderer (despite his innocence, that’s what the world knows him as), an american Auror who’s she somehow grown very fond of, and a _hippogriff_ of all things. It fills her with an odd happiness somehow, as if this is always where she was meant to be.

       “I don’t think so,” Sirius finally says. “He’d help someone kill him, for sure. He doesn’t carry out his own dirty work, Peter. Are you two going to keep an eye on Harry?”

       “As best we can,” Amy promises.

       “Trouble sticks to that kid like a magnet,” Jake says, shaking his head. “But we’ll do our best.”

       Sirius nods. “Thank you,” he says, and then his face splits into a grin. It makes him look more like his age and less like a terrifying criminal. “Are we not going to talk about the time you scratched my head and called me a good boy?”

       “Okay,” Jake says, “I think _that_ concludes our investigation.”

       As they climb out of the cave, Sirius calls: “I think you’re a good boy too, Peralta!”

       Amy laughs. “You did do that, you know. “

       “Okay, one, I was just being nice to a dog, and two, let’s just forget that ever happened. Sound good?”

       “Oh, I’m never letting you forget this as long as we work together,” Amy says, laughing. “It’ll be even better once we catch Pettigrew and I can tell _everyone_.”

For whatever reason, the playful smile drops from Jake’s face. “About that…”

“About what?”

       “Catching Pettigrew,” Jake says. “I - unless we find him by the end of the year - ”

       “What do you mean?” Realization is hitting Amy’s body before her mind, making her stomach twist and turn and her hands clench.

       “I told the Auror office back in the States that I’d be going back at the end of the Tournament.”

       Amy stops. They’re still on the mountainside, and the wind is lifting the ends of her hair and blowing it across her face. Jake stops too, slightly below her, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his face tilted toward the weak winter sun.

       “Is this because of last night? With Sophia?”

       “Partly,” Jake admits, “but also - god. They need me. They need me to help bring Hawkins down - ”

       “Surely they have other Aurors capable of - ”

       “You know I’m the best - ”

       “Oh, c’mon, Peralta - ”

       “What do you want me to say, Ames?” He finally demands. “This was never meant to be a permanent position. I was never meant to stay here forever.”

       “I know that,” Amy says defensively. “It’s just - maybe we need you here too.”

       She regrets the words the minute she says them. It feels as if she’s giving a tiny piece of herself away, a piece of herself that she hadn’t realized mattered until just now. _Stupid,_ she thinks, as Jake scuffs the ground with his boot.

       “I don’t know what to say,” he says finally. “It’s just - I have to do this, okay? I don’t want her to run me out of this country.”

       “Well,” Amy says, feeling like something inside of her is being slowly pulled apart. “I guess we’ll just have to find Pettigrew before the Tournament ends, then.”

 

xx.

 

       “Something’s on your mind,” Teddy says. “What’s wrong?”

       They’re at Amy’s house, sitting at her dining room table. She’s playing with her food, turning her fork over and over again in the pasta.

       “Hm?” She asks, looking up. He’s looking at her with the sort of look she’s come to associate with Teddy, a sort of mixture between tenderness and protectiveness that gets under Amy’s skin for whatever reason.

       “I was just saying, you look like there’s something bad on your mind.”

       Amy swallows. In her mind’s eye she sees him standing on the mountain below her, hands in his pockets and face soaking in the sun. _I’m going back_ he says in her head, and depending on what mood she’s in: sometimes events play out exactly how they did in real life, and sometimes she asks him to stay.

       She doesn’t know what that means, if she’s being honest with herself. Teddy’s hand comes to rest on top of hers and she looks at it for a moment. Teddy’s nice, she decides.

       “It’s just work,” she says.

 

xxi.

 

       The next month passes by in a confusing blur. She and Jake continue to investigate Peter Pettigrew, with an intensified fervor on Amy’s part. Peter Pettigrew isn’t their only case however, and the closer the holidays grow, the more magical incidents happen. She spends almost every night at Jake’s, but it’s not the same as it was before. Now there’s only a strained silence, filled with occasional murmurings about possible theories.

       They go to different locations, look into different spells, they do everything they possibly can and it’s still _not enough._ There’s not enough concrete evidence to lead them anywhere, and all the while Amy’s thinking: _I’m going to have to do this alone soon_ and it makes her feel sick.                  Really, she forgets almost entirely about the Yule Ball until the formal invitation comes in the mail.

       They hadn’t had anything like a school dance when _she_ was at Hogwarts. She puts on the dress robes she wears mostly to her brothers’ weddings. They’re yellow, and embroidered with white thread. They swish against her legs and cling to her figure more than anything else she wears. She even assembles her hair, using her wand to secure some more of the finicky pieces at the back.

       Dumbledore told them they could invite another guest if they wanted to, but Sophia’s in the States and Amy doesn’t even mention it to Teddy.

       Jake’s evidently surprised by this when he meets her in front of the Hogwarts gate. “No Teddy?”

       “He couldn’t make it,” Amy lies. Jake looks nice too, she reflects, in a nice set of spotless black dress robes.

       “You look really nice,” Jake tells her. “I’m sorry he can’t be here to see that.”

       “I suppose you’ll just have to do,” Amy says.

       Jake offers her his arm, “Shall we, milady?”

       “We shall.”

       The Great Hall looks almost unrecognizable. The Hogwarts staff has truly pulled out all of the stops, and everyone is too entertained with one another to notice two ‘security specialists’ in their midst. They’re almost completely invisible.

       Even though they’re inside, Amy doesn’t let go of Jake’s arm (she doesn’t know why) and he doesn’t pull away (she also doesn’t know why) and something about this night feels magical and far away from everything else.

       She even manages to catch Harry’s eye as he walks in amidst cheers with a pretty-looking girl on his arm. They have a good vantage point from their table to see him. Jake finally releases her arm when they’re seated with some of the other members of the staff, and Amy determinedly focuses on Harry’s position rather than the close proximity to him.

       “So,” Jake says, once dinner is being served and Amy is fairly certain that nobody is threatening Harry _at this moment_ , “what was Teddy doing?”

       “Working,” Amy says automatically, too quickly.

       “ _Really_ ,” Jake says. “Because I thought he was bragging at that disastrous double date that he always gets his work done early.”

       Of course Teddy had bragged about that. Amy rolls her eyes, “Fine. You caught me. I didn’t want him to come, so I didn’t tell him about the ball.”

       “ _Scandalous_ ,” Jake says, “why didn’t you want to tell him?”

       Amy’s about to say something in response, perhaps a cleverly orchestrated lie or something -  when the musicians begin to play and the champions are leading their dates onto the dance floor. It’s quite easy to keep track of Harry at first, there’s only _four_ couples on the dance floor after all, but everything changes once other people begin to join the stage.

       “I can’t see him,” she says in frustration, standing up.

       “I guess this calls for desperate measures,” Jake says, with a twinkle in his eye as he stands up and extends a hand toward her. “Amy Santiago, will you dance with me?”

       They’re supposed to be watching out for Harry’s safety, not dancing as if they’re fumbling strangers. Something in this night feels _alive_ though, and what’s the harm in a little fun if they’re doing it for the sake of the mission?

       “Do you even know how to dance?” Jake hisses to her several minutes later, when she’s stepped on his toes at least twice and has nearly tripped three times.

       “No,” Amy says, going red.

       “Here, let me show you,” he says, and suddenly his face is a lot closer than it used to be, his hands folding around hers as if her hands are letters and he’s the envelope and for whatever reason this makes her feel like crying.

       “This is nice,” she says.

       “Yeah,” he says. “Sophia taught me how to dance.”

       _Of course she did_ , Amy thinks. She feels as if she’s standing on the edge of a cliff, the ocean roaring below. What would happen if she let go?

       The musicians begin to play something a lot slower, and Amy feels herself bending toward Jake as if she’s a tree in the wind. She’s still holding one of his hands, loosely. His other arm is curving around her back and her hand is coming to rest on his shoulder. Her face is pressed into his shoulder. She can feel his breath against her hair.

       _Oh god,_ Amy thinks, and then again and again and again _ohgodohgodohgodohgod._ She’d do anything to stay in the moment, she thinks, Jake curled around her and she curled around him as if this was how they always were. How they were always meant to be.

       She thinks, in another life, maybe she would’ve seen this coming. Maybe in another life, she tells him to _stay_ , that _she wants him to stay. She needs him to stay._

       In this universe, however, there’s Sophia and Teddy and Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew and Harry Potter and an endless list of reasons _why not._

       The song ends, because it has to. The band starts something more frantic and fast-paced, the couples swerving apart, and a slow dance morphs into a party.

       “We need to find Harry,” Amy finally says, pulling back. There’s something on Jake’s face, maybe an unspoken word, maybe something else. “Should we split up?”

       “Yeah,” Jake says almost in bewilderment, as if he’s being pulled back to reality suddenly, sharply. “Yeah, let’s split up.”

       She doesn’t look back at him when she walks away.

 

xxii.

 

       She always comes over to Jake’s after work unless they’ve talked otherwise earlier in the day. He’s even given her a key (partly because it was more convenient and partly because he was always losing his), so she doesn’t even knock.

       “I asked Harry to give us a list - ” she’s saying as she walks in, but abruptly breaks off as she becomes aware of Sophia on the couch with tears on her cheeks and Jake stretching out a hand to her as if he’s trying to stop her. “Oh!” She squeaks. “Sorry. Was I interrupting something?”

       “She even has a key to your _apartment_?” Sophia demands, standing up from the couch.

       “I think I should go,” Amy says slowly, “I’ll just drop off this case file later…”

       When Sophia (or anyone else) visits, Jake hangs up a blanket on the wall with their evidence. Amy’s relieved to see it’s still in place, to say she trusts Sophia would be a stretch.

       “No,” Sophia says, “stay. It’s not like I’m staying anyway.”’

       Amy is realizing that she really, really, walked in at the wrong time.

       “Nothing is happening between Amy and I,” Jake says. “She’s with Teddy!”

       “It doesn’t matter,” Sophia says, brushing back her hair. She somehow makes even that movement seem elegant, “things have been off with us ever since you tried to arrest Hawkins. We’ve been holding on for too long, and it’s fine. You want to be with Amy? _Be with her._ ”

       She Disapparates from the apartment with a loud CRACK, and Jake falls back onto the couch.

       “Oh my god,” Amy says, “I am _so sorry_.”

Jake peers up at her between his fingers. “Why the hell would you be sorry?”

       “I interrupted,” Amy says in horror.

       “You interrupted her dumping me,” Jake snorts.

       “She just - I - what?”

       “She said she doesn’t love me anymore the moment she got here,” Jake says. “I think you showing up was just an excuse for her to not feel like the bad guy.”

       “Oh,” Amy sits next to him on the couch. “I’m still sorry.”

       “Why?”

       “Because you just got dumped,” she says, “it seems like the thing to say.”

       “It felt like we weren’t really together anymore,” he says. “We hadn’t been for a long time, like she said. She didn’t want me to go after Hawkins, said it would change everything - I guess she meant it.”

       “Of course you had to go after Hawkins when you found out she was dirty,” Amy says, “why would she expect any different?”

       “She’s not a fan of my stellar moral compass when it comes to endangering our relationship,” Jake says. “Or she wasn’t. I guess she’s a past tense now.”

       Amy desperately wants to ask if this means he’s going to stay in Britain, stay with _her_ , but she doesn’t. Instead she reaches out her hand and places it on his shoulder.

       “Instead of staring at a rat’s face for the rest of the night,” she says, “why don’t we order from your favorite place, get drunk, and watch Die Hard?”

       Jake beams at her. “Ames, you’re incredible.”

       (Later, when Jake is quoting the movie at the top of his lungs and Amy’s tipsy, he’ll swear it’s the best break-up he’s ever had. Amy tucks it away like a secret into her heart. It’s secretly the best night of the year.)

 

xxiii.

 

       The second task dawns cold, and Amy really, really _hates_ the cold.

       “Who thought it would be a good idea to put the task on the lake?” She demands of Jake as they sit in the stands, shivering. “Seriously. Also, we can’t see what’s happening _in_ the water.”

       “Can’t see dem _rats_ ,” Jake says.

       “That is single-handedly the worst thing you’ve ever said, and you’re _American_.”

       “What is that supposed to mean?”

       “You say stupid stuff all the time,” Amy says. “You know, it’s the eternal curse of the Americans.”

       “I take offense at that. An entire nation of proud bald eagles takes offense at that.”

       “Besides, Dumbledore said they’ve got the lake covered. We’re just here to make sure the _surface_ doesn’t get dicey.”

       Harry ends up being incredibly late to the entire event before flopping rather ungracefully into the lake.

       “I think Harry is a champion procrastinator,” Jake says, leaning over the railing to get a better look. He’s squinting at the water, the tips of his ears red with the cold. Amy feels something uncomfortable twisting in her chest.

       She can’t quite forget the Yule Ball, even though it was almost two months ago now.

       _You’re with Teddy,_ she tells herself sternly, although she doesn’t know if that will last. He’s just so… _boring_.

       Jake eventually gets bored of squinting into the water and instead turns to his favorite habit: annoying Amy. He starts with quoting Die Hard, then moves on to singing obnoxious Muggle tunes, and finally does a Teddy impression that actually causes her to laugh.

       “How ’bout them pilsners?” He asks with an entirely straight face.

       Amy bursts into laughter, surprising herself and obviously surprising Jake, because he looks at her differently all of the sudden.

       Before she can voice it, Cedric Diggory comes bursting out of the water.

 

xxiv.

 

       “I’m assigning the two of you a new case,” Holt tells them the next day, “since there’s been no leads regarding the Sirius Black situation. I’ve already cleared it with your superiors, Peralta.”

       Amy takes the file from him. “Bertha Jorkins?”

       “Was going to visit some relatives in Albania, but hasn’t come home yet. Bagman is just now informing me of this,” Holt’s distaste for the other department head is overwhelmingly clear - but Amy’s mind gets stuck on the country’s name: _Albania._ She looks up at Jake and finds that he’s staring right back at her, his expression nearly mirroring hers.

       She remembers the dead tree and the bones surrounding it - _oh, Bertha Jorkins,_ she thinks to herself, _what did you get yourself into?_

 

xxv.

 

       “I’m really sorry, Teddy,” Amy says quickly. “It’s just a work emergency.”

       She’s standing in the doorway to his apartment, already dressed for travel, her suitcase at her feet. She’d barely remembered that they’d had plans tonight. It had been something that hadn’t had top priority ( _obviously_ ) but Teddy looks like she’s canceling Christmas or something.

       “Amy, I’ve been planning this for weeks. All of my brewing buddies are going to be there!”

       “A woman is missing, Teddy,” Amy says, “and I have a really bad feeling about this, okay? I have to go.”

       “My job is dangerous too, you know,” Teddy says, hurt filling his voice.

       “I never said that it wasn’t.”

       “Well, you act like it doesn’t matter all the time. And - ” he’s obviously searching, “and like, like my _pilsners_ don’t matter.”

       Amy is at the end of her tether. “Maybe it’s because your pilsners _don’t_ matter,” she snaps, and instantly regrets it. “I’m sorry, Teddy, it’s just I’m stressed about this - ”

       “It’s about Jake, isn’t it?” Teddy says, and Amy’s heart seizes in her chest a little bit.

       “What do you mean?”

       “You’re going to _Albania_ with him - ”

       “We’re working on this case together - ”

       “And my friend at St Mungo’s said he slept with one of her coworkers last week so either he’s a douche or single again - ”

       “What?” Amy demands. She hadn’t known about the St Mungo’s woman and it curls in her stomach unpleasantly. “Teddy, this has nothing to do with Jake.”

       “You’re a terrible liar, Amy,” Teddy says, and all at once Amy is just _tired_. She’s tired of how he says her name, as if it’s a period. The end of something instead of the beginning of something new.

       “I’m not lying!”

       “Then say that you want to be with me and not with him,” Teddy says. There’s an odd sort of confidence in his voice, as if he’s certain Amy will dismiss Jake again and choose Teddy. That maybe she’d ditch this Albanian trip altogether (despite the _missing woman_ ) and fling herself at him. That they’d go to his brewing group and drink pilsners and talk about their day.

       “I’m leaving, Teddy,” Amy says, voice shaky. “I’m not going to choose between you and my work. I just won’t. The fact that you’re asking me to is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Amy,” Teddy’s panicking, “I didn’t - “

      “You did,” Amy says. “And for the record, I hate pilsners.”

 

xxvi.

 

       “Are you mad at me?”

       Amy looks over at him. They’re currently stationed on a rooftop across the street from Bertha Jorkin’s aunt’s house, wrapped up in tight coats and drinking Firewhiskey to keep warm.

       “Why do you think that?”

       “You’re just really quiet tonight.”

       She takes another swig of the Firewhiskey, feeling it burn down her throat. “Teddy and I broke up.”

       “Oh,” Jake says. “Oh - I’m sorry.”

       Amy waves away his concern. “He asked me to choose between two things, and I wouldn’t. He’s a dick.”

       Jake doesn’t ask her what those two options were, and Amy thinks that’s probably for the best. Instead she passes the flask back to him.

       “To asshole exes!” Jake says, throwing it back. Amy laughs, snorting a little. Nobody has passed in and out of the house yet, not even Bertha’s aunt.

       “I’m not even that sad,” Amy says. “Like who cares _that much_ about pilsners?”

       “I never liked him,” Jake admits. “You were too good for him. And his pilsners.”

       “And he thinks - I don’t know. Did you sleep with some Healer from St Mungo’s last week?”

       Jake is obviously taken aback. “Who told you that?”

       “Teddy,” Amy says. “Apparently word got around and he thought informing me of that would matter.”

       Jake’s looking at her warily, as if he’s waiting for her to suddenly split. “And does it?”

       “Does it what?”

       “Matter.”

       Amy tips her head back. Bertha Jorkin’s aunt lives in a small enough town that the stars haven’t quite been blocked out here, or at least there’s more then back in London. The night sky stretches above her, infinite.

       “No,” she lies, finally. “I’m your partner, Peralta, not your babysitter.”

       Eventually, Bertha’s aunt comes home from wherever she was, but there’s still no sign of Bertha. Not that Amy really thought there would be, it was more just a precaution. In case Bertha was in hiding for whatever reason.

       Bertha’s aunt turns out to be a friendly-looking woman named Louise who has sprigs of curly brown hair and an affinity for household charms. She ushers them inside almost immediately when they identify themselves as the people looking for her niece, and puts a kettle on.

       Amy isn’t looking at Jake, but she doesn’t know why. She feels annoyed at him for whatever reason, and it sits uncomfortably under her skin.

“So you say that Bertha never made it here?” Jake asks. He hasn’t sat down, but is instead snooping around the room. There’s a picture of Bertha on the mantle. He picks it up and studies it for a moment.

       “No,” her aunt says sadly. “And I’m not entirely sure what could have held her up, but I’m worried. She hasn’t been right for a while.”

“What do you mean?” Amy asks, as Louise comes back in with the tea and sets it down in front of them. The Firewhiskey feels like an eternity ago, and Amy curls her cold fingers around the mug gratefully.

       “She used to be so attentive,” her aunt says. “She used to have an excellent memory, actually. Then, ten years or so ago - well. I don’t know what happened, but she changed. Became more spacey, less focused. I thought it was a boy, but it didn’t go away.”

       “Our reports say Bertha was always spacey,” Jake says. “You’re saying she wasn’t - ”

       “Oh no,” her aunt says, “not my Bertha. I’m starting to think that something happened to her that she felt like she couldn’t tell me…”

       “Or couldn’t remember,” Amy says slowly. Jake’s eyes meet her from across the room, realization settling in them.

       “Is it possible that your niece had any enemies?”

       “I suppose so,” Louise says. “She was such a pleasant girl, though…”

       “What year did she graduate Hogwarts?”

       “Oh… 1975?”

       It meant that she would have been three years older than Harry Potter’s parents and his friends. And, Amy thought, six years older than her. Their time at Hogwarts would have just barely overlapped.

       “We’re going to do our best to figure out what happened to her, Mrs. Jorkins,” Amy says.

       Louise suddenly looks very tired. “Please try and bring her home,” she says. “And - you should stay the night. See if you can get more of a feel for Bertha’s character.”

 

xxvii.

 

       Later that night, Jake creeps into her room and gently closes the door. He’s a silhouette in the darkness, a gentle weight on the bed as he sits down next to her.

       Amy’s sleeping in ‘Bertha’s usual room’ as her aunt puts it, and it feels as if the entire room is quivering with the presence of the missing woman.

       “Do you think we’re going to find her?” Jake’s voice is quiet as a mouse, and Amy feels her entire heart shrivel in her chest.

       “No,” she says. “We’re not going to find her.”

       Perhaps some part of Bertha Jorkins is still in this room, watching these two Aurors trying to puzzle together what happened to her.

       “Sometimes I hate this job,” Jake admits.

       “Me too,” Amy says.

       There’s a creaking sound as Louise moves around a floor beneath them. “I didn’t think being a wizard cop would be this hard.”

       “What’s a cop?”

       Jake laughs. “I forget sometimes - it’s just, when I was kid, I wanted to be a police officer. Like the Muggle equivalent of an Auror. When I found out I was a wizard, to be honest, I was kind of disappointed. I had my heart set on being a badass. Then I found there _were_ wizard cops. I got so worked up they sent me to detention.”

       Amy laughs. She can almost picture it, Jake realizing there _was_ such a thing as Aurors and getting so immensely excited that he did something so insane as to send him to detention.

       “Why did you want to become a cop?”

       “If Die Hard had been out when I was kid, that one hundred percent would have been the reason,” Jake says, “but really - well. My dad left my mom when I was younger. He was - _is_ \- a piece of shit father and husband. Used to cheat on my mom all the time, and after that I didn’t want her to get hurt anymore. So I’d do whatever it took to protect her and it just sort of bled into my real life.”

       “That’s sweet,” Amy says. “I’m sorry about your dad, though.”

       “Yeah,” Jake lays back onto her bed and Amy feels herself being pulled to him like gravity is shifting. She settles for lying next to him, her face tilted toward his. “So what about you?”

       “My dad was an Auror,” Amy says, “and I just - well. After seeing so many of my classmates leave school and then either become Death Eaters or die, I just wanted to _do something_.”

       “Did you know a lot of people who died in the first Wizarding War?”

       “Everyone knew people,” Amy says. “Considering I had one friend though, not anyone close.”

       Jake contemplates for a moment, rolling onto his back. “You know,” he says finally after a pause, “I never did take you on the worst date ever.”

       “It wasn’t a date,” Amy says. “It was an occasion.”

       “So it was,” Jake says. “Well, anyways. We got distracted there for a second, but don’t think I _forgot_.”

       Amy rolls her eyes. “Is sitting through Die Hard not enough for you?”

       “Hey, that can’t be counted as a horrible occasion. That’s a wonderful experience and you take that back.”

       “Make me,” Amy says, making a face at him.

       “Don’t make me come over there - ”

       She’s snorting, laughing. “God,” she finally says, looking up at the ceiling. “I was hoping you’d forget.”

       “I never forget anything,” Jake says, tapping his temple. “This is an impenetrable vault.”

       “You forgot it was Charles’ birthday last week and he cried in the bathroom - ”

       “Hey, I fixed that, I took him out to dinner and everything was _fine_.”

       They’re quiet for a moment. Amy thinks of the time she went to a Muggle sweet shop when she was younger and saw a machine that had been pulling taffy. It had bent and twisted and stretched it into something new. Amy feels like the silence between her and Jake is doing something similar right now.

       “Jake?” She asks.

       “Yeah?”

       “Can you stay in here tonight?” She doesn’t want to be scared, but she is. Not of You-Know-Who or Peter Pettigrew. She’s scared of him leaving at the end of this tournament, of him leaving right now. Amy Santiago is scared and she _hates_ it.

       “I was just about to ask you if I could stay,” Jake says. “This place is kind of giving me the creeps.”

       “Oh, good,” Amy says, “we’ll go home tomorrow, right? After looking around the town for signs of Peter Pettigrew.”

       “Yeah,” Jake says. “Yeah.”

       He gets up to turn off the light and then returns, slipping under the covers next to her.

       She hasn’t washed her face or read her daily chapter before bed, but she can feel sleep weighing at her eyelids. “Night, Jake,” she mumbles, stretching out a hand to touch his chest.

       “Goodnight, Amy,” he says quietly back.

 

 xxviii.

 

       As the months wear on and the end of the tournament grows nearer and nearer, Amy’s anxiety doesn’t abate. Instead it increases, to the point where she feels as if she constantly has butterflies swarming in her stomach and up in her throat.

       For one, despite the lack of attacks upon Harry Potter since the beginning of the tournament (despite the dragon and mermaids), she can’t help but feel like there’s _some_ reason Harry’s in this tournament, and it’s not for entertainment purposes. That being said, they haven’t found either Bertha Jorkins _or_ Peter Pettigrew.

       At least they’re able to shove aside the issue of Sirius Black at last, instead focusing their resources on Bertha Jorkins. Amy can’t help but feel like she and Peter Pettigrew are connected in some way.

       That’s why she’s all at once surprised and disapproving when Jake makes his announcement.

       “It’s been almost a year since you lost our bet,” Jake says, “and I haven’t cashed in yet, which is absolutely horrific of me.”

       “Is now _really_ the time?” Amy asks.

       “I think we could both use a little bit of some stress relief,” Jake says, “don’t you agree?”

       “No,” Amy says automatically, and Jake makes a face at her. “We need to be focusing on our case.”

       “Give me two hours,” he says. “Two hours to take you on the worst date, I mean occasion ever.”

       “Fine,” Amy says, barely looking up from her paperwork. “Two hours. But I mean it, Peralta, and you’re paying.”

       “Okay,” he says, “but first… you’ve got to wear your special outfit!”

      

xxix.

 

       “I think I look ridiculous,” Amy says, turning slowly in her tacky blue dress. “Seriously? Muggle clothes?”

       “I’m fulfilling my nine-year-old self’s ultimate fantasy.”

       “I didn’t realize I was on a date with a nine-year-old,” Amy says, crossing her arms.

       “Ha! She admits it’s a date!” Jake says, pointing at her.

       “If this is your idea of a date, I don’t know how you got Sophia,” Amy says, as he throws open the door to his… “Is that a _car_?”

       “Don’t worry, Ames,” Jake says. “I’m totally licensed to drive this baby.”

       “Okay, but _why_?”

       “My dad used to tell me that I needed to take dates in a fancy car, so here we are. Bet he didn’t expect my date to be a witch, but here we are.”

       Amy decides that at the very least, she knows some helpful healing spells. She slides into the passenger seat. “Does your dad know you’re a wizard?”

       Jake starts the car. It makes a rumbling sound Amy desperately hopes is customary and he begins to turn the wheel to go onto the road.

       “No,” Jake says. “I mean, I’ve obviously seen him a couple times since I was seven but it’s never really come up. Hey dad, guess what? Magic is real and I’m a wizard. I know you thought I was a detective in the NYPD, but turns out I’m… not?”

       “He left when you were seven?”

       Jake shrugs, “Yeah. Guess Mom and I weren’t exactly… well. He’s a dick.”

       “So,” Amy says, feeling a subject change is necessary - “Where are you taking me?”

       “It’s a fancy little place called ‘you’ll see when we get there’.”

       “Do you treat all your dates like this?” Amy doesn’t know why she keeps calling it a _date_. Is this what it is? A date? Did she want this to be their first date?

       “Only the special ones,” Jake says. True to his word, he doesn’t crash the Muggle contraption (“It’s called a car, Amy, stop acting like it’s the pinnacle of Muggle invention. Yes, I know the word pinnacle.”) Instead he drives them safely to their next destination -

       “What. Is. That?”

       “This is,” Jake says, parking the car with a flourish, “the home of the best fish sandwich in all of Europe!”

       It’s a seedy-looking pub that doesn’t even have indoor seating. Instead there’s just a window, and a few dirty looking picnic tables.

       “We are way too overdressed for this,” Amy says in horror. “We literally look like we’re on the way to a ball. Why are we here?”

       Jake just exits the car with a grin and slams the door. He opens her door, offering her a hand. “It’s all in the imagination, Ames,” he says, “you’ve got to picture it like it’s a five star restaurant.”

       There’s a small family and an old couple at the picnic tables, and all of them are staring as Jake and Amy step onto the gravel in their fancy clothes. If there’s one thing Amy hates more than almost anything, it’s being stared at. And they’re staring at her tacky blue dress and Jake’s weird tux and shorts combination (Amy’s pretty sure that’s a bad choice, despite not knowing much about Muggle fashion) and Amy kind of wants to crawl under one of the picnic tables.

       Instead she says, “This better be the best damn fish sandwich ever.”

       It is, actually. It’s tasty and sprinkled with just the right amount of lemon juice to make it pop. Jake digs around in the backseat of his car and pulls out two cans of soda (he chills them with his wand when nobody’s looking) and it’s way too sugary for her taste but she downs it anyways.

       She forgets about the people staring, she forgets about her stupid dress and Jake’s stupid pants. She thinks that the outfits were a way for him to pretend that he was still upholding his end of the bet (being the worst occasion ever) but she didn’t really think he had it in him to try and make her miserable.

       They’re snorting over a story involving a younger Jake and a baseball night when their night is brought to a screeching halt by the arrival of an owl, dropping a letter on Amy’s head and then flying away.

       They’d been there for long enough that they were the only people there, which is relieving since she doesn’t have to explain why she’s getting mail from an owl -

       “Oh god,” she says. “There’s been an attack at Hogwarts.”

 

xxx.

 

       “Do you want to tell me why you were walking alone in the forest, at _dusk_?” Amy demands.

       “It was just a walk!” Harry says defensively. They’re getting close to the final task now, and Amy can see that it’s already begun to wear on him. “And I don’t care if I’m not supposed to be fraternizing with the enemy - ”

       “I don’t care that you were talking with Viktor Krum,” Amy says. “I care that you took an unnecessary risk with someone you don’t know very well.”

       “Yeah, man,” Jake says. “Do you _want_ Dumbledore to assign us to you full time? We’ll be stalking your every footstep if that happens. We’ll be _everywhere_.”

       “I hope you weren’t planning on wearing that,” Harry says, eyeing Jake’s outfit.

       “This outfit was bad _on purpose_ ,” Jake says, and Amy interrupts him before he can get too far with that one.

       “Do you believe Mr. Crouch is in danger?”

       “I don’t know,” Harry says. “He was acting… really weird. Kept acting like his son was still alive. Then he’d break off, start rambling about other people and things…”

       “Like what?”

       “Something he had to tell Dumbledore, a terrible thing he’d done, a woman named Bertha who was dead - ”          

       Amy, who has been writing down everything Harry said, snaps her quill between her fingers. She looks up at him, and Harry is staring down at her fingers as if he’s more surprised by her reaction than anything else. “Bertha? Bertha Jorkins?”

       “I don’t know,” Harry says. “Are you - do you know who she is?”

       “She’s missing,” Jake says. “We were trying to find her. But why on earth would Barty Crouch be involved with that? What terrible thing could he have done? I thought he was an alright guy - ”

       Amy doesn’t want to discuss probabilities with Harry sitting there looking as if he’s going to nod off. “Harry,” she says, pressing her hand on top of his. “You know you can trust Jake and I, right?”

       “Yes,” Harry says, but Amy knows he’s lying. It’s in his tone of voice, in the set of his shoulders. She suspects that it would take a lot more than protecting Sirius’ secret to convince Harry that he could trust her with his safety.

       “All you need to do is send us an owl,” Amy says. “We’ll be here almost immediately. Okay? You’ve got us.”

       “Okay.”

       “And,” Jake adds, “no more long walks after dark. Or dusk, or whatever. Clear, pure daylight only kid. I’m serious, don’t give me that look! The daylight protects all.”

       Harry stands up. He’s got too much on his shoulders, Amy reflects sadly. She wishes he’d let them take some of the burden.

       They don’t find Barty Crouch that night, despite Hagrid’s assistance in combing the Forbidden Forest. Amy has a slowly sinking feeling that they _won’t_ find Barty Crouch. _Too late,_ whispers the pesky little voice at the back of her mind. _You’re too late._

 

xxxi.

 

       The next few weeks pass by far too quickly for Amy’s liking. They are at a series of dead ends and false starts, and Amy can feel Peter Pettigrew slipping through their fingers like quicksand. They aren’t going to find him in time, and it wouldn’t matter anyway because _finding_ him wouldn’t make Jake stay.

       She’d assumed that maybe once Sophia had broken up with him he would stay, but a few weeks ago he’d begun to pack up his apartment and she’d realized that he was going to leave. It was stupid, insanely stupid, but Amy had been kind of hoping that he was going to stay.

       Not that she’s asked him to, however. She couldn’t bring herself to. There had been something between them during the Yule Ball that had seemed as fragile as glass, and she didn’t want to turn a _maybe come visit me someday_ to a _visit me never._

       On the dawn of the third task, Amy seriously considers staying in bed.

       What’s the point? Today the third task is going to happen, and Harry is going to be fine (probably) and Bertha Jorkins is going to be dead and Peter Pettigrew is going to remain missing and everything would be exactly the same except for the fact that Jake Peralta is leaving.

       She really doesn’t want him to go.

       She puts on her game face though, because she’s Amy Santiago and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t send him off with a good last day on the case.

       “Last day,” Rosa says, when she comes into work. “Isn’t it?”

       “Oh really?” Amy says, “I hadn’t noticed.”

       Jake looks vaguely disappointed at her words. “At least,” he says, “we’re all going to the third task. Need as many Aurors on the scene, Dumbledore says. A good send off.”

       “I’ve been waiting for you to leave since forever.”

       “Oh c’mon, Rosa,” Jake says, “I thought we had something special.”

       Amy’s fine, she’s just fine. Fine. Absolutely fine. That’s why, while they monitor the Hogwarts grounds and survey the final touches to the labyrinth the champions are going through, she’s desperately avoiding Jake. They’re busy anyways, she rations. _Busy, busy, busy._

       “Are you okay?” Harry asks her when they cross paths in the Great Hall around lunchtime. He’s got the Weasleys with him, Amy notes happily. She had been worried that nobody would come to see him in place of his family members.

       “Who’s this?” A woman who Amy assumes is Mrs. Weasley asks.

       “This is Amy,” Harry says, shrugging. “She’s some Auror.”

       “Nice to meet you, Mrs - ”

       “Mrs. Weasley. Are you one of the Aurors here to make sure that everything turns out alright?”

       “Yes. I was just stopping by to check in on Harry,” Amy says. “I’ll be monitoring his movements in the maze.”

       Harry grins cheekily at her and Mrs. Weasley looks vaguely suspicious.

       “Hey,” Jake says, and Amy starts. “I lost track of you there for a sec, Ames - Oh, hey Harry.”

       Harry’s friend Hermione gives Amy a knowing look, and Amy feels her cheeks grow red. Just because she’s been surprised by Jake, _well_. She thought she’d ditched him at the astronomy tower when Charles had derailed the conversation to Muggle culture.

       “I’ll see you later, Harry,” Amy says. “Remember.”

       “Walk only in the daylight!” Jake calls over his shoulder as they walk off. They’re crossing into the Entrance Hall and Amy is wondering how she can ditch Jake next when he stops her by grabbing her hand and pulling her toward him. She feels herself tipping toward him like water running down a window -

       “You’re avoiding me,” he says.

       “No I’m not,” Amy lies, “I’m just busy.”

       “Don’t lie to me, Amy,” Jake says, “you’ve barely looked at me these past few days and today not at all. Why?”

       Jake is definitely the childish one in their relationship, Amy thinks, but right now she feels like stomping her foot and storming off like a child. Here is the reason that you shouldn’t let yourself feel things for people you work with. Or anyone in general. Because maybe, _maybe_ \- she was hoping Jake Peralta would stay. For her.

       “You’re leaving,” she finally says. She wishes it was a question, but it wasn’t. It was a statement. “You’re leaving and I - I don’t want you to go.”

       “Ames - ” his fingers tighten convulsively on hers and she wishes that she could pull him to her and keep him here forever, as if he’s a secret held close to her heart.  He isn’t a secret, though, he’s a person and he’s _leaving_.

       “I need to go check on the preparations for the sphinx,” Amy says quickly. “Just - I’m sorry. I’ll say a proper goodbye tomorrow. Just not right now, okay?”

 

xxxii.

 

       Everything is going smoothly (or as smoothly as it could be going, considering that they are sending four teenagers into a maze full of monsters) up until the point when Harry and Cedric touch the Triwizard Cup and vanish.

       Amy’s been following him (discreetly, on top of the hedges, of course, she couldn’t directly interfere with the competition, she’s just watching for rats) and so she’s the first to see when he and Cedric touch the cup and just _poof._ Dumbledore had not said that would happen. Actually, she’s pretty sure that would be something he would mention.

       “Oh shit,” she swears. “Shit, shit, shit!”

       She sends up bright blue sparks. It’s a code to the other Aurors following the other champions and patrolling the perimeter that something is wrong. She continues to run along the top of the hedges, jumping from row to row. Earlier she’d been wearing an invisibility cloak as to not alert the others to her presence, but she rips it off now in favor for speed.

       Where several minutes ago there had been a championship cup and two teenage boys there’s… nothing. Nothing at all. Just a patch of trampled grass.

       Harry’s gone.

 

xxxiii.

 

                   Amy’s just now getting back to the front of the maze, cursing the non-Apparition rule in place at Hogwarts (and hoping desperately, beyond belief, that someone has found the boys) and lands on the grass.

       “Ames!” Jake’s at her side in a moment, because of course he’d gotten back to the front first - “Are you - ”

       It’s in the middle of his question when the two boys fall from the sky, the portkey rolling away from Harry’s fingers. Amy’s dashing forward, grabbing at Harry’s shoulder (she feels a pulse, he’s _alive_ ) and then she hears Jake’s intake of breath - “Oh _fuck_ ,” he says, in the sort of choked-off voice that sends chills down Amy’s spine.

       “He wanted me to bring him back,” Harry is saying, “he wanted me to bring him back to his parents.”

       It’s at that moment that she realizes Cedric Diggory is dead.

       He’s sprawled on his back, eyes open and unseeing. A seventeen-year-old boy, who several hours ago Amy had observed kissing his girlfriend goodbye, is just _gone._ She feels a choking sensation rising in her chest and her hand tightens convulsively on Harry’s shoulder.                        “Give him to me,” Moody growls. “I assume you and Peralta will need to take statements. Santiago, I’ve got Potter. Do your damn jobs.”

       Harry’s being pulled away from her and Jake’s hand is on her shoulder and Amy’s fingers are digging in into the grass - she should have moved _faster_. She should have realized the cup was a portkey and now a boy is _dead -_

       Jake figures it out first. Amy forgets to give him credit for it later, but she feels his hand on her shoulder loosen and then he says:

       “Oh god. Ames, we have to go after them. We have to find Harry!”

       “What do you mean?” She asks. There’s a ringing in her head, and Cedric Diggory’s body is being pulled away from her by his father who’s howling, howling, howling. “Jake - ”

       “Moody was the one who put the portkey in the maze,” Jake whispers. “Amy - ”

       Then she’s sprinting, running, Jake barely keeping up with her. She can’t believe herself, she can’t believe that she’d let _anyone_ take Harry Potter from her sight after what just happened, and if anything happens to him she will literally _never_ forgive herself -

       Jake’s somehow ahead of her now, darting into Moody’s office and Amy’s right on his heels. It means that she has a perfect view of Moody raising his wand and saying, “ _Avada Kedavra_!”

       “NO!” Amy’s screaming, flinging herself forward onto Jake. They both hit the ground, the killing curse hitting something else above them and causing it to shatter into pieces of glass that rain down over all of them. She knows now that they’re sitting ducks - she can’t reach her wand fast enough and he’s going to kill them -

       “ _Stupefy_!” A blinding flash of red light splits through the room and hits Moody solidly in the chest.

       “Oh my god,” Jake’s saying, “oh my god Ames, you _saved_ me.”

       Harry Potter is sitting on a chair and Amy watches as he slowly begins to quake, his breath coming in fast bursts.

       “It seems like I put the right Aurors on the job,” Dumbledore says from somewhere behind them and Amy’s gasping for air because if Dumbledore’s here then that means they’re _safe -_

“Oh Jake,” Amy says, realizing she’s still on top of him and awkwardly clambering off. She’s about to apologize when she stops, “ _Jake_?! He’s bleeding!”

xxxiv.

 

It turns out to be a surface wound from when Amy quite literally threw herself on top of him. Dumbledore sends them both home, telling them that one, Harry’s _safe_ , and two: he’ll tell them everything the next day.

       “So we’ll have to go back up tomorrow,” Amy says, as they’re about to walk out of the front gates.

       “Voldemort’s back,” Jake says, and Amy winces. “What? Am I not allowed to say the name? He’s back, Amy. He’s already killed a boy.”

       “Dumbledore’s going to tell us the details tomorrow, we don’t know - ”

       “You and I both know that he’s back,” Jake says. “And, well. I won’t be there tomorrow.”

       Amy stops. “What do you mean?”

       “I know I was supposed to leave on Friday but they need me back tomorrow,” Jake says quickly, all in a rush as if the words are being ripped from him. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but you were avoiding me. Dumbledore wants me back in the States.”

       “What do you mean _Dumbledore_ wants you back in the States?”

       “He’s worried Hawkins had something to with this whole Triwizard Tournament fiasco. She deals in rare magical items after all, and well. Now that we know who was really behind it, I’m assuming he’ll want me to look into whether she has any ties to Voldemort.”

       “Don’t say the name,” Amy says harshly, and a tear slips out before she can stop it. “You’re telling me that Dumbledore has wanted you to go undercover and you _didn’t tell me_?”

“I was going back anyways!” Jake says, and she can hear the frustration in his voice. “Ames, this was never permanent.”

       “Oh, stop with that,” she says. “You and I _both know_ that Holt would transfer you in a second.”

       “I need to take down Hawkins,” Jake says, “what if she is in league with Voldemort? I need to do this, Ames.”

       “Then go,” she says, wiping her face. “I understand. Just _go_.”

       “I’m supposed to pretend that we had a huge falling out here in Britain,” Jake says, “so they don’t suspect that I… that I’m looking into things. You know. Country affairs.”

       “I’ll pretend to hate you,” Amy says, “Check and done. So is this goodbye for good?”

            “Don’t - ”

       “Don’t what, Jake?” Amy demands. “I don’t care that you’re leaving.”

       “If Hawkins is involved with Voldemort - ” Jake’s voice breaks off. “Anything could happen. I just wanted to let you know… I kind of wish something had happened between us. Romantic stylez.”

       Amy’s flinging herself at him before he even realizes what’s happening, her arms locking around his neck and her face buried in his shoulder. She knows now why he has to go, and she hates that she understands. She hates that she’s letting him go.

       “Me too,” she says quietly. “ _Me too._ ”

       Then they’re colliding. Kissing him is the worst thing in the world, because it’s the first and last time she’s ever going to do it. Kissing him is taking the plunge, the risk, and then watching him walk away all in one.

       Once, when she had been younger, Amy had sat at the very top of the Astronomy tower during a thunderstorm. She couldn’t remember why she had been up there, just that she had stood as close to the railing as possible. The dark clouds had rushed across the valley, causing the lake to twist and writhe with the wind. The first crack of thunder had been as loud and sudden as an explosion - the bolt of lighting that split the sky a moment later just as lovely as spring flowers pushing through the frozen ground.

       This is that kiss. It’s surprising and beautiful and most of all - Amy wants _more_.

       He pulls away. Amy feels something on her cheek that might be another tear.

       “Bye, Ames,” he says, a moment later. She can still feel his breath on her cheek. “Sorry I didn’t do this sooner.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you all thought :)


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